


The Eagle and the Hummingbird

by DigestedHuman



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: A little Alternative Universe, AU where Peter saves his dad on the train, Background Cherik, Dark Phoenix - Freeform, Dark Phoenix fix-it, Feels, Gen, Hurt Peter, Peter is a boy to Erik, Peter is a cool teacher and an X-man, Peter is mature, Peter tells Erik, Several minor time skips, This fic has more Luna easter eggs than the movie, charles tries to help, dadneto, erik is so done, mention of Anya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigestedHuman/pseuds/DigestedHuman
Summary: "Let's say they get a really special delivery, not like some dirty feathers or dead worms. From a bird god. That's cool. A really cool bird with rainbow feathers with a colorful basket full of eggs, that would grow up to be another bird, any kind of bird that they couldn't have ever thought of and- maybe a big stinky surprise by a lizard, or a puny little-““What has that got to do with anything you want to tell me?”Erik was fully annoyed at this point. Peter was talking to him like a child having the talk about bees and butterflies for the first time, and he didn’t like it. Erik clearly wanted to get over with this quickly.---In which Peter thinks he’s prepared, but Erik is not.





	The Eagle and the Hummingbird

**Author's Note:**

> X-Men: Dark phoenix was enjoyable for me, but it was seriously disappointing that they ignored Quicksilver. The number of dialogues he had in the movie made me want to cry in the corner of the theater.  
> I’ve read a lot of fics over the years, but this is my first time writing a fanfiction. No dadneto ending is a bad ending, and even my laziness can’t stand it. I had this AU idea where Peter shows up at the train fight, and needed to dump it out of my head. My first language isn’t English, so there’re going to be many mistakes I don’t recognize. I hope you enjoy this story.
> 
> *Anya Lehnsherr is mentioned in this fic. See end notes for more information.

A standoff featuring a battle of magnetism was something Erik wasn’t prepared to face the second time, especially on a racing metal train- his comfort zone. And this time, he was losing the fight. Help wasn’t coming, as his comrades were either knocked out, busy, or dead. The sharp blades of metal fragments that were formerly pointed towards the enemy were now slowly digging into his own neck and torso. As Erik’s struggle was getting more desperate as his neck was being constricted by the nearing pieces that restricted his inhalation, Vuk grinned as she continued to maneuver her outstretched hand with ease.

That was when a flash of color butted the white haired woman to the other side of the train with the force and noise of a car crash, making her control over the metal drop instantly.

On all fours and sweating from the near-death experience, Erik coughed violently to catch his breath. He looked up to find the back of a standing figure. Silver white hair and immeasurable speed: One of Charles’s X-men: Peter Maximoff has materialized out of thin air.

The beloved hero was looking more like a casualty, wobbling slightly as Vuk, without a single scratch, stood up from the rubble and walked back towards the two with an expressionless face. Erik noticed that the younger man was in fact barely standing, immobile from his spot in front of Erik- wasn’t wearing his usual uniform, only goggles, shoes, and a jacket over his hospital gown. Somehow, he seemed to be in a worse situation than Erik- the manifestation of complete vulnerability against an insurmountable power.

In a blink of an eye, the kid was flung around the train, crashing into the walls like a rag doll. The guns Erik had yet to use floated and pointed towards the sagging figure.

Bending the barrels of the guns, Erik promptly attached a metal bar to Peter’s hips, pulled him towards himself and shielded them both and the door leading to Charles, Jean and Cyclops by bending the roof of the train.

However, what happened next was that Vuk ripped the entire upper part of the train and catapulted it to the air above, with two men wrapped in the metal roof. So insignificant she deemed them that she didn’t even bother killing them. Gritting his teeth, Erik took control of the air borne metal slate and hovered it to the nearby rail track that the train passed moments ago.

The dwindling flash of light indicated that the train was traveling at a distance. The metal bender straightened up, and right before he launched himself towards the vehicle, he heard a weak cough from beneath.

He looked down at the mutant sprawled beside his feet.

“Can you stand?”

Peter didn’t answer, only groaning quietly in every movement he attempted to make, succeeding to twitch occasionally. It was clear that he was in no shape to speak, let alone do anything. His face had bloody patches everywhere, even over his worn off bandages, with his arms and legs twisted slightly in the wrong direction. Forced breaths passed through bloody lips, and eyes were tightly screwed shut in pain.

While the train was furthering itself, from the other side, Erik noticed black figures running towards them in full speed.

He couldn’t leave the kid here.

The older man beckoned four pieces of slick metal parts from the mangled roof and covered the injured one’s limbs just on the side of tight to steady the bones. Then he grimly took Peter in his arms and positioned the injured on his back, despite the weak protest. Erik circled the limp bandaged arms around his neck. A metal band fastened around their hips, securing their bodies tightly. One round metal surrounded both of Peter’s wrists, binding them together around Erik so he won’t fall off.

"Hold on. Never let go."

Through the impact and smell of burning flesh, Peter held on to Erik's neck with all the force he could gather.

 

\-------------

 

After the blinding light of the supernova Jean has become, it took a while for anyone to start moving on from the marvel and tragedy that unfolded in front of their very eyes. Suddenly realizing the heavy weight on his back that stopped moving some time ago, Erik was brought out of the trance.

“Peter? Are you all right?”

For a moment, Erik thought he died latched on to his back, at least without suffering much more. But fortunately, weak breaths were tickling Erik’s neck. Peter was simply unconscious, apparently in the middle of exhaustion, with his arms slotted tightly in the crook of Erik’s neck.

“Hey. Kid. Wake up.”

His head merely lolled limply on the older man’s shoulder. Noticing the quiet struggle, Hank looked over and found his injured teammate suddenly present on the wreck site. 

"Why the hell is Peter here? He should be resting in the mansion!"

“Don't ask me, he's the one who dropped out of nowhere.”

“He’s looking worse. Kurt should take us back to the mansion as fast as possible - He almost died last time.” 

With urgency to not lose another friend, Hank tried to pry Peter away from Erik, who released the metal bands that held them together. But Peter didn’t budge. The doctor had to relinquish Peter’s grip on Erik’s coat with force. As Erik passed him on, Hank looked somewhat pitiful of the boy.

Erik let Peter be carried away by his team.

 

\-------------

 

“And please talk to Peter.”

“I beg your pardon?”

In a nearby hotel they found after a reconciling game of chess, Charles and Erik spent some time chatting over another round, for the former was avid to at least score a draw. Words saved for a better time were shared, and both men were relaxed and hopeful. As they checked Charles’s luggage for the last time, the professor asked Erik to bring his grandfather’s photo he left in one of his previous shelves from the mansion. While Erik was contemplating- mostly because he wanted to go back to his home as soon as possible and, his grandfather’s photo? Since when did he mind to carry it around?- his friend also mentioned a person he long forgot.

Charles raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that spoke ‘really, Erik?’. 

“I saved him too.”

“You saved him after he saved you from death.” That was quite true- Erik didn’t have any words to object.

“When we parted, you kept on staring at him. I know a look of gratitude when I see one. You’ve never sat down and talked with him, did you? You both did move on, but I think he deserves that- especially after risking his life to help us in a fierce situation.”

“Do you really believe that he’ll like that? I do thank him, but it seems unnecessary”. 

“Oh, you can’t be so sure. For one, he has quite a soft spot for you.”

Erik frowned. “By that you mean..?”

“Be kind to him, Erik.”

“Aren’t you being too generous to him? You shouldn’t have favorites, professor.”

"He's my student, Erik. And he's been an X-man since its beginning. Of course I care for him." Erik had a hunch that there's something else, but let Charles off the hook.

“Come with me, then.”

Charles crossed his arms and sighed. “I intend to take my retirement seriously, and for a good reason. It was my mistake that endangered everyone... So for now, I don’t think I can handle making them uncomfortable with my presence.”

Erik didn’t say anything, only a little flustered by the thought of navigating in the jubilant facility alone.

"He has a knack for saving people, don't you think? He's a natural. He also broke you out of the Pentagon and redirected the plastic bullets back then. Remember? That makes two times you owe a gratitude. Perhaps I owe him too, for that.”

Erik silently ran a hand through his hair, and Charles finished his cool cup of tea.

“Erik, please bring my belonging and thank Peter. Before we leave for Genosha.”

 

\-------------

 

Erik found himself standing at the door frame to the Jean Grey’s School for Gifted Youngster’s infirmary room number 1. He was a leader who marched forward, burying the sacrifices and emotions in his heart- not someone who made a list and checked it twice to clear himself off debt, especially for a kid who according to Charles, seems to obscurely admire him for unknown reasons. 

And Charles was OK with that- either he gave up or he himself had a soft spot on Erik. A corner of his lips lifted a little.

Peter looked blatantly bored, tapping his fingers on the bed rail and sighing now and then while watching TV. He was surrounded by things that people who care for him brought- flowers, CDs by numerous rock bands, several radios, snacks made of noxious artificial sweets (That he obviously can't reach for alone so someone was teasing him) and letters that were opened, read, and neatly folded back and stacked on a small table beside the bed. Two out of five radios were blazing with music at slightly different speeds- probably for him to tune in according to his preferences, and the kid was constantly changing the TV channel. Erik’s senses were overloaded by the commotion as so many things were going on at once. Other materials- empty bowls and plastic bags full of bandages soaked in various fluids on the side of the bed, were a reminder of the inelegant healing process he went through.

Erik felt a little guilty, considering if he should have gotten a 'Thank you for saving my life' gift.

The older mutant simply stood there, not knowing what to say. What was there to say to start a conversation? He genuinely did thank the member of the X-men, but Erik barely knew the kid. The only confrontations consisting of less than 5 dialogues, and usually none when they encountered during their mission, merely side eyed glances.

Thankfully, Peter turned to check the time on the clock above the door. The boy visibly flinched, all wide eyed as a yelp audible over the loud noises greeted the man standing at the doorway. He would have fallen off the bed if it wasn't for his current state- Erik was reminded that he was an extremely jumpy kid.

"Woah man, since when did you start staring at me? Talk about creepy."

The boy- now a man, but nonetheless so young compared to him, looked even more terrible in bright light. The mass of scrapes, shallow and deep on his face were barely covered by all the bandages, the worst being his nose and cheeks. Numerous cuts and bruises marred the skin of his entire body- even down to his toes, hidden only by casts, gauzes and sheets. All four separate pieces of plaster enclosing his limbs were filled with childish doodles and words without an inch of empty space, as well as his neck brace. His left leg, wrapped in a particularly big cast, was lifted up by a sturdy band attached to the ceiling. He seemed to be unable to move any of his limbs, except his left arm that luckily avoided joint damage, the wounds seemingly limited to his lower arm and hands. He was literally confined to the metal bed, only his torso slightly inclined to help him breath and eat easier.

Despite their minimal meetings, Erik never thought to see Quicksilver look so impaired, considering his powers. As a matter of fact, one of the most hurt he's seen from a mutant who's still breathing.

"I hope my arrival doesn't come as an inconvenience." Erik spoke, but Peter looked nothing but constipated by his presence. After turning off the TV with his less restricted hand, Peter reached for the radios and turned off the music. Appreciating the kid's will to concentrate on him, Erik explained his arrival. "You saved me. I felt indebted, so I came to properly thank you.” Erik walked towards the patient. ” How are your injuries?"

“They’ll heal. Nothing big.” Erik raised an eyebrow. “I mean, as long as I’m alive, I’ll be fine. I’m a fast healer, you know. I’ve been the only one who was always available to Charles after any mission, without exception.”

Erik neared the bed and settled, watching Peter’s eyes move up to look at his face. “You must be itching to use your powers.” 

“Oh my god, tell me about it. Hank plays maid and lets me eat a lot, but he says I need to use all that energy on my recovery. So basically I’m barred from using it, or I’ll deteriorate like a popped balloon. Professor Blue nags a lot, but I just use a little with my mind to listen to music because it’s not fun here, that’s all.” Peter nervously babbled on like it's totally not his biological father standing so close to him for the first time in 19 years.

“And don’t feel bad about it, dude. It’s mostly by.. um… by Jean. Yeah. Who knew her inner conflicts could be so deadly.” Jean- Peter deflated by thinking about her. She was dangerous, that was a fact, but she was his friend. One of the few close friends Peter’s ever had. They often shared their feelings about having powers that other people really can’t understand, and Jean seemed to enjoy the conversations as much as Peter since it wasn’t easy for her to read his hectic mind. She referred to it as trying to spot a person in a speeding express train. He felt like a douchebag that he tried to stop her with force instead of talking to her, because as much as he hated to admit, he was blinded by fear against such a formidable power. Perhaps this was his repercussion. Peter silently hoped that she finally found peace.

Erik’s hand on Peter’s shoulder brought him back down to earth. “Thank you for saving me again, Quicksilver.”

"Oh. That's uh. Cool. No prob." The speedster let out an awkward laugh. Wow, his father bothered to remember his alias.

"You caught up a speeding train full of hostile aliens and saved me in a state of being gravely injured. If you hadn't come, I would have my vitals impaled by metal. And that's not something I will ever allow."

Peter huffed out a laugh. “Sort of like me refusing to die by bullets, huh.”

The heat of the moment gone and living through it in retrospect, the gravity of it sank in Erik. His palm on the bandaged shoulder grew heavy.

"I can go back to my friends." Erik paused. "To my family. Thank you, Peter." Erik spoke with heavy sincerity.

The young man looked sorrowful for a split second, then shook his head.

"Nah man. You could have survived, maybe. You being you. I did a shit job at taking care of myself. Made myself a burden and posed you more danger. Not nice to carry around some inept dead weight, right? I'm sorry for that."

"There's absolutely no need to apologize." A little taken aback, Erik noticed that Peter was very humble, or extremely insecure. Something he didn't know, nor minded delving deeper into. To lighten up his rescuer's mood before he leaves, Erik observed the casts covered in heartfelt letters from students, friends and fans. 

'Get well Peter.'

‘You’re my favorite X-man!’

'We'll behave in next PE. Please come back soon! Professor Hank’s fill-in classes are boring.'

'Mr. Maximoff's classes are the best! No one lets me destroy a soccer ball like that.'

‘I’m the one who stole your twinkies. Sorry, Mister. P.S. Please don’t find me! P.P.S. My name totally doesn’t start with an A.’

Where there were no words, there were drawings of cars and guitars, snacks: presumably his preferences that were widely known among the students. Dominant were cartoonish drawings-of Peter with a scribble of silver for his hair, falling into a pond, tripping, and making a fool of himself in front of laughing younger children, stick figure pictures of him pranking other teachers with teenagers, of a little girl holding Peter's hand, of Peter saving the rest of the X-men and defenseless children from a shower of bullets.

A warm smile crept up Erik’s face. "You're one of their favorites."

"Some never listen to me." Peter chuckled. "But hey, they have a good time, and I enjoy that they're having it in my class, you know. They all need to catch a break."

"I’m sure you're a great teacher. Charles would be very proud." He hoped the kid well. He had good intentions, even if he didn’t seem to understand half of the consequences of his actions. Acting out of emotions- Erik felt that.

"Thanks, Erik." Peter seemed a little surprised but nonetheless content, moved by the sudden compliments from the older man.

Erik's job here was done. "It's been an honor, Peter. I hope you get well soon. We'll see each other again one day."

"Wait. Are you going back to that island of yours?"

"Yes, I will go back and stay in Genosha." The mutant leader answered the sudden question, masking the little annoyance by the younger man’s tone referring to his safe haven like a barren place.

"Oh, uh.. Can you tell me more about that place? I've seen it but I don't know how you guys make it work.."  
From Genosha to his opinions on the news of the world, Peter questioned incessantly. This was the most he talked with his dad, and even a good one because Erik didn’t seem that irritated by him. He was going to hang on and stretch this rare moment as much as possible. On Erik's part, he was being nice to a valuable member of the mutant community who happened to save him twice, and complying to Charles’s request, but he was growing tired.

After 30 minutes of interviewing, Peter was out of questions. "Do you think Hostess's snacks need more cream fillings?"

Erik finally asked. "Peter, is there something you need from me?"

“Actually, I...” Peter gulped. He had nothing left to say, except…

Is this it? Is this the opportunity to confess the truth he’s been expecting to take to his grave, and almost did?

As he found his dad’s eyes and realized how much Erik was focusing on him, he felt it in his heart- It’s now or never.

 

This was it.

 

“I really, really want a moment with you, if that's ok.”

Peter willed himself to speak: Come on Peter, you’re a mature adult. You can do this. "Since the whole pentagon thing... Man that's so long ago, I had this thing that I was dying to tell you. If you just give me some time." Peter's words came out of their own accord- words that have been packaged and ready to be delivered for years.

Sensing the change in demeanor in his voice, Erik slowly nodded and brought a visitor's chair close to Peter's bed and sat. He was mildly confused. Peter didn't blame him. Could he ever imagine...

I’m being selfish- Suddenly Peter's heart ached. Erik's not ready for this, he'll never be ready for this, after all he's been through. But the words were poison that had been accumulating for 19 years, and only the man sitting next to his bed had to power to set him free (would they both be free, or simply share the poison?). All the while, Peter wasn't sure if he could manage being 'really' related to big old Magneto.

At the back of his mind, Peter always had a dark view of himself that he could've turned out bad if he gave into his impulses when he didn't know better- not even like a charismatic villain like his father who had a form of logic but just a destructive bundle of pure insanity. Plus, being an acclaimed teacher and a hero was something he could have never envisioned but adored so much. He didn't know what his father really being there could influence him to become.

Wow, he was such a child-But not a child anymore. A grown man in his thirties. He could handle it, whatever the consequences are. Magneto was a murderer, terrorist, but also a survivor, a victim from what Charles generously told him. Truth, just like a gift, was simply there. What they made of it was up to them. And by the way, Erik had the right to know, for someone who cares so much about his close ones only to have lost them all, almost all... Peter set his mind.

“I thought I should wait for the right moment, you know. But after what happened... I don't think I can count on another chance.” Peter took an exaggerated deep breath. “Please don’t freak out.”

“Sure, Peter. I’m listening.” What was there that this boy could possibly tell to surprise him?

“Ok. Here we go. So when a man and a woman love each other very much, they –“  
Peter couldn’t showcase the complementary hand gesture to explain the wonder, but it was enough to make Erik frown. Noticing Erik’s expression- good job Maximoff, that’s quite a record of ruining a conversation- Peter decided to stoop a little just to be safer. Plan 184 it is.

“Right, so I'll go fable style. A bit of allegory sounds cool and absolutely not uncomfortable. Two birds- an eagle and a peacock- Wait the male’s supposed to be the flashy one, right? Well anyways, an eagle flies into a peacock’s nest one day and they think they have something special going on between them, and the peacock believes that this is the one- has faith that he won’t be flying away anymore. They have a brief but happy life together- doing everything that young couples do. They love each other very much and that fact places an express delivery order at the skies.”

“Let's say they get a really special delivery, not like some dirty feathers or dead worms. From a bird god. That's cool. A really cool bird with rainbow feathers with a colorful basket full of eggs, that would grow up to be another bird, any kind of bird that they couldn't have ever thought of and- maybe a big stinky surprise by a lizard, or a puny little-"

“What has that got to do with anything you want to tell me?”

Erik was fully annoyed at this point. Peter was talking to him like a child having the talk about bees and butterflies for the first time, and he didn’t like it. Erik clearly wanted to get over with this quickly.

“Ok. Cool. You're aware. I'm pretty sure you are. “At Peter’s words, Erik grew increasingly rigid on his seat. 

Shit. The speedster was an idiot in context and atmospheres, but it was obvious that this chance was going downhill really fast. He was wasting all the precious attention. He had several more chapters of the story ready with 5 alternative endings but decided to go straight to the conclusion.

“So it happens that.... I'm one of that egg.”

A pause. Erik blinked.

“So you are someone's offspring. Everyone is, Peter.”

Peter groaned and sank his head as much as he can to his chest. Back to the start- obviously Erik's speech skills skipped a generation. But Peter was determined. This was the chance that all his past life choices led to, and he couldn’t give up. He dropped his previously worn nervous smile, a facade that didn’t take him further. Beating around the bush was just going to waste everyone’s time, looking at how old both men became.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He can do this. He has to.

“I.. I haven't had a father for all my life. Not that it's anything special, really. Everyone's got a story. But in mine I happened to realize who my dad is 19 years ago.”

Erik nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s a long time- did you meet him?”

“Yes, but.. He doesn’t know. I.. I wanted to show him that I exist. But I couldn't. I still don't know how.”

“Well if it's an advice you need, you’ll easily find more qualified people than me. With all these kids running around, Charles should be better, even after what happened.” Erik casted his eyes down as sadness overtook him: the one he avoided when passing the exuberant juvenile crowd thronging the school.

“He did help me. I took his advice.”

“So where did it take you?”

“Here.” 

Peter locked his eyes with Erik’s.

“Right now.”

Erik's mind suddenly clicked. 

“You're the eagle, man.”

Erik froze. What is he saying? He's telling Erik that he's ‘his’ kid? 

“I.. I'm not trying to screw you over. I shouldn't, especially about this. It's just the truth.”

There was no way. The kid’s nothing like him, the only thing common being that they're both mutants. Now that he thought of it, his last name is Maximoff- a name somewhat familiar, and maybe the thin lips and dark eyes... No. There wasn't any need to look into some coincidental similarities because it was simply not true. Erik thought about asking Hank to check the boy’s head injuries more closely.

Erik stood up. “I'm sorry, but I can't play along because I'm not your father. I hope you get your real father to accept you. I truly do.”

Peter sputtered. “Wait, what? You've gotta be kidding me.”

As Erik turned to leave, Peter became desperate and tried to catch him. No not again, not like this, he’ll never listen to me again after he exits this room- but the injured teacher was trapped in the bed with broken limbs.

Peter was fully panicking at this point. His voice raised. “You had a kid, and you can't even recognize it when you see one? What kind of parent is that??”

The door handle Erik was holding dented in itself. “It's been great, Peter. I hope to meet you again when you’re not impudently delving into other's wounds.”

 

"…Anya Lehnsherr."

Erik stopped dead one step from the threshold.

“She... She was my older sister, I've heard. My mom told me.”

Erik promptly turned, and with large strides toward the bed in a speed that made even Peter recoil, a large hand latched on to Peter's chin. Eyes full of disbelief, nose scrunched up with ready-to erupt rage and a prospect of retaliation, that if this is a trick, or a petty lie to make him feel better- or worse, Peter was to be ripped from the inside.

As Erik was searching Peter's face, the X-man was terrified by the sudden aggressive proximity.

“I-I didn't mean to mention- I'm sorry-“ He barely got the words understandable since Erik was grabbing on his jaw, hard. He only managed to look like a fish out of water, watching Erik’s eyebrows knit in concentration, his gaze boring straight through his corporeal self.

Peter regretted this decision. If he could run fast enough to go back in time, he would throw his past self through a window for even contemplating this as a viable option. It was better than being one second away from being murdered by his estranged father, and that was too short for him in this state.

Because why would someone like Erik-all murderous, weird, serious and overall not fun to be around, want to be related to a middle-aged man with ridiculous hair who doesn’t take things seriously, who makes a fool of himself in front of kids, flourishing his idiocy with such bravado? He’s gone through this phase of talking himself out so many times, and yet… He just couldn’t help himself from having futile hope, creating ‘What if’s’ that only led him to empty misery- just like how Peter couldn’t help but glance up curiously at Erik, taking in a closer look of his dad. Grey hair- much like Peter’s normal hair, was peeking out underneath his usual chestnut hair from the static image he kept tucked in his memory. It showed how old his father became, and the rough, wrinkled face showed just how tired he was.

Peter was downright ashamed of what he’d done. Maybe he should have saved the man from this massive shit that piled up. The elder was clearly done with the shit that life already flung at him.

“I.. I'm not.. Maybe I’m not, you know. It could have been a huge misunderstanding. If it’s not ‘not’, it’s not like I’m demanding anything from you. I'm good, you know.” Peter was desperately squeezing out words as Erik’s intensity rose to the point of hurt. “Please- I just thought that ‘cause you're old now, and I’m old too, maybe you’d like to know that someone’s out there.”

It was as if Erik exited this dimension. He was still searching in his face, for an evidence to prove the claim wrong, or.. It can't be possible, it mustn’t.

As he calmed down just slightly with honed skills, easing his grip on the painful memories the young man has triggered, Erik felt something move under his grip. It was the rise and fall of a pulse- the tremor of Peter’s fluttering heartbeat thumping under Erik’s fingers: the fragile sign of life that almost perished under the claws of the phoenix. As he became aware of the anxiety exuding through his fingertips, he found something familiar on the boy’s features, and noticed how hard he was gripping the kid’s face.

His manner turned softer as the rage transformed into rage-but this time, tinged with confusion.  
How much anger does this guy have- Peter was genuinely amazed. Seriously, Magneto here tested the threshold of how much indignation a man can hold. 

Erik lifted his hand and set his palm on the younger man’s bandaged cheek, turning his head so gently like holding and examining a priced jewel, mindful it would break. Peter could actually see the clogged gears in Erik’s mind turning, making unnecessary heat and friction due to years of abandonment. Attempting to make connections that he never thought he needed to, trying to understand what the hell this stranger spoke. The gears of ever considering a family- in Xavier's word, the community they formed as a mutant is family too, and it does feel like one in a mansion with bedrooms crowded with children- but as someone sharing actual flesh and blood.

Could he find anything? Peter wasn’t sure if he can and what that meant. He heard many times that his nose is identical to his mother's, even though the other parts were not even close. He didn't know who he resembled, as his mother's family was too different from him, not counting the mutation. Peter just waited frozen, unsure and frankly terrified of what Erik’s next line of action would be.

Erik's mind was racing. Eyes rolling all over, breath speeding up. It can't be true, it simply can't, after all his life-

 

Gradually and suddenly, realization dawned upon his face.

 

Erik’s eyes then landed on Peter’s, this time not looking through him, but looking at him like he’s met him the first time without a veil of cheap silver package of some synthetic junk food covering him (His clothes are not cheap, but still). The man’s hands roamed over his skin, so slowly, that Peter thought he used his speed out of fear. Shakily moving the silver strands of hair away from the boy’s disheveled face, the mutant leader’s fingers softly lingered on the forehead wrapped in bandages. 

Erik looked so lost by the eyes that were staring at him from the past, gently sliding his fingers to the kid's eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, cheek and chin, taking his time to scan his face with his fingers, over his wrapped shoulder, to his arm. Fingers grazed over the cast, tracing all the words that Peter earned over the last 9 years.

The lost hand traveled to Peter's good hand peeking out of the right cast. Long fingers entwined with the thin ones and mildly held. The pale skin contrasted with his rugged copper skin, worn from years of work and sunburn. He felt the solid warmth radiating from the tender hand. 

The eyebrows that were formerly trying hard to connect pulled up, drawing a perfect curve, and with that his face contorted in an unreadable way. Peter never saw someone wear that expression before, apart from his mother when she first found out that her son was a mutant. Erik’s mouth was slightly open, and it quivered, but no word dared to come out of it for agonizingly long seconds.

"Oh, Lord.."

His eyes, formerly filled with rage, was now welling up with fresh tears full of unadulterated pain. And ironically, loss.

Like someone cut off the strings of a marionette, Erik collapsed and sank into the visitor's chair, all signs of brutal force leaving his frame.

Erik buried his face in his free palm, with so much tension to the point where Peter was worried that he might rip his own face off out of frustration. It was clear as day that he was trying to hold back his tears but failing since Peter could see them gathering on the scruffy chin. With shoulders trembling, he was holding his own face like a dam holding onto so much water, accumulated over the long, lonely years.

His father's hand held his in a firm and fixing grasp, which felt extremely awkward. Peter reciprocated the best he can. This was the moment he always dreamed of, but it wasn’t a celebration, a quarrel or an outburst as he pictured it, just an underwhelmingly placid scene. Peter was stuck in a situation he couldn’t quite catch up to, clumsily trying to soothe Erik without a word. Peter could only imagine how one would feel when they just found the only blood related person left in the world. Well… The extended family talk had to come later. 

But was this the right choice? Did he betray his mother and his sisters? Will this man seek out and fight them? Will he be endangering everyone? Will he forgive him for keeping this a secret? Would he really want him as a son? The questions had to wait, but one nudged at his mind. He had 19 fucking years to sort this out, so it would be embarrassing to tear up, won't it?

No matter what Peter told himself a million times, his cheeks were already soaked, and his eyes stung. Closing his eyes and painfully swinging his encased left arm over them, he let out a wet shaky sigh. Turning the volume of his ever-broadcasting mind down, Peter Maximoff- the once wandering teenage boy- now a mature grown man, gave in to the moment.

 

Neither of them dared to look the other in the eyes, but two hands held each other tight like a vice - As if to never let go.

**Author's Note:**

> *Anya Lensherr is Erik’s kid from the comics. She was his first child with Magda, and she was burned to death by the humans that pursued Erik. He killed them all in the scene, but Magda ran away from Erik as she was terrified by her husband’s carnage. She later gave birth to twins: Pietro and Wanda- But in this story, Wanda doesn’t exist as Erik’s daughter. Plus I set Anya as Peter’s deceased sister, who is dead the same way as in the comics. I think the concept of Peter having half-sisters he’s never met adds to the tragedy.
> 
> If you liked the fic, please let me know :)


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